Back from an evening in Townville. Haven’t been there in probably two months, which is pretty unacceptable. It felt strange, foreign, very distant… like it was my childhood home in another life. Daddy’s doing ok there – he’s slowly adjusting to the quiet and accepting that Mama’s not coming back. Being there this evening felt like looking in a fun house mirror – you know it’s your reflection, but it’s strange and distorted and unfamiliar. There are pictures of our family framed throughout the house, all taken before Sept 17th, and I try not to let myself feel anything when I look at them. I’m scared that if I let the feelings seep through, I would find myself in a puddle on the floor, and that wouldn’t make Daddy feel any better, now would it?
I didn’t go into Mama’s room. I started to, but just couldn’t bring myself to walk in there… there’s just too much of her there. It’s been weeks since I’ve thought of the night she died, and going into that room makes it too clear.
There was discussion tonight of the next two months. August and September are looming – a sick feeling creeps up into my throat when I realize that we’re just two weeks away from August. Aug 20th is Sue’s 21st birthday and the first anniversary of the beginning of the end. Sue’s 20th birthday dinner at the Melting Pot was the last supper. On Aug 22nd, Mama had a seizure and Daddy found her on the kitchen floor. That was when they found the brain tumor. Sue wants to get drunk off her ass for her birthday. Something tells me that she’ll have company.
And September. There’s Maggie’s first birthday, when we’ll be giving her the baby doll that her Grandmama Denise bought for her. And the birthday party when Maggie will wear a smocked dress that her Grandmama bought for her. It’s only a matter of time until the things that Mama bought run out, and then there won’t be anymore. And then two weeks later, Sept 17th. I don’t know what I’ll do on Sept 17th. I don’t know if I’ll cry all day or get drunk or stay in bed or do something symbolic and meaningless like plant a tree or write Mama a letter. It was the worst day, the worst week, the worst month, of my 30 years. So what exactly do you do to commemorate it?
And to Bri, Melanie, Amber – thank you. I had a knot on my stomach when I saw that I had comments on my last post… was almost scared to read them. But your words were so kind and supportive and comforting. The crazy girl in South Carolina says thank you! :)